


The Art of Her

by RoNask



Series: 101 Prompts Challenge [17]
Category: Hannibal Lecter Tetralogy - Thomas Harris
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-25
Updated: 2019-11-25
Packaged: 2021-02-18 17:27:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21564793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoNask/pseuds/RoNask
Summary: 17. "Don't treat me like a princess"
Relationships: Hannibal Lecter & Clarice Starling, Hannibal Lecter/Clarice Starling
Series: 101 Prompts Challenge [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1503173
Kudos: 51





	The Art of Her

The melody from the harpsichord resonated and filled the air in the study. Each note produced by the movement of a skilled finger seemed to draw her deeper inside the room. It wasn’t clear if it was the sight of him or the tender rhythm that guided her feet. 

She sat beside him, watched the dance of his hands over the keyboard, took in the vision of the sketch forgotten over the structure of the instrument. She saw herself drawn with her back bare to his eyes, her attention lost in the land of dreams as she slept.

Clarice was so focused on her study of the lines of his work, she missed the moment the melody ceased. Her hair being pulled away from her neck and the shiver-worthy feeling of his lips against the flesh of her neck were what brought her mind back to his presence.

She swallowed when she felt him kiss her shoulder, she blinked more than once before words came out, “Did it come to you easily? Drawing?”

Lecter hummed, pulled her closer to him by the waist, trailed the way up to her ear with his mouth, “It runs in the family, my mother painted.”

“Do you?”

“At times.”

Her nipples hardened at his attentions, “But not usually.”

“It’s a whim,” his hand moved on her back, fingers playing at her hair.

“You’re a Count, had the education of one, I’m sure you know a thing or two about technique,” Starling laid the drawing back on the harpsichord, turned and kissed him full on the lips.

She slid and straddled him, wrapping arms around his neck, sinking down his lap and making him elicit a muffled groan as he realized she wore nothing underneath her sleeping gown.

His touch went for her thighs, slow, explorative.

“Don’t treat me like a princess, Hannibal,” she muttered.

Lecter chuckled, tightened his grip on her flesh, “We do have to work on your patience, my dear. Perhaps I should paint you someday, give you a reason to wait.”

“I know your memory better than that, Doctor. You don’t need me to pose.”

“No, but I might just want you to,” he cupped her buttocks.

Her lips brushed against his, “You don’t need excuses to see me naked, all you need to do is ask.”

A hum and he rid her of her gown, smile widening as he took in her form. “Perhaps it’s an excuse for myself. I can see, but not touch.”

“I believe we’ve had enough of that,” her fingers rushed to unbutton his shirt before she allowed them to explore his chest.

Lecter caught her hand, leaned in, then took her breast inside his mouth.

Clarice sighed, body undulating towards him immediately. She tilted her head, teased his earlobe with her tongue. She whispered something in his ear, a confession, a provocation, then rose to her feet.

Naked, nipples hard and core glistening she stood, gaze lingering on his, then she offered him her hand. “Let’s take this to bed, I’d dread for us to stop because we’re getting uncomfortable.”

He took it, followed her bare-chested to their suite.


End file.
